Sarliah Spends Time With Everyone
by mistresstabris
Summary: The Inquisitor spends some quality time with her favorite
1. Dorian

The sun was beginning to set over Skyhold. Everything was left a gorgeous combination of yellows and oranges under the Sun's influence. Sarliah Lavellan emerged from Cullen's office after dropping off some important war-related papers and stealing a few quick kisses. The night was fast approaching and the air was chill, so she sped across the walkway to Solas's tower. She greeted him with an "Aneth ara" and walked up the stairs to the next level. She found her friend relaxed in his chair, reading a book about the history of the Tevinter Imperium.

"Ah, 'Liah. I was just checking the facts in this book. It's mostly propaganda," Dorian scoffed, tossing the book on a pile of other discarded tomes, all about the Tevinter Imperium.

"Missing home?" she asked as she pulled a novel from the many shelves that lined the walls.

"Somewhat, yes. Do you ever miss your clan?"

"Not really. I've never really liked being Dalish and my clan is pretty much as Dalish as they come," she replied, leaning against the cold stone. "My family and my friend Deylan left the clan to live in Denerim with me. So, I only keep ties with my clan for sentimental reasons."

Sarliah held up the book that she had retrieved from the shelf: Hard in Hightown. Dorian grinned and adjusted himself so Sarliah could sit with him. She placed her back and legs on the arms of the chair and nestled the rest between his legs. Her head leaned against his chest, his heartbeat sounding in her ear. She pushed a lock of fine, red hair from her face as she found the chapter in which they had left off. Sarliah began:

"Chapter 3. For the second time in what was becoming a very long night, Donnen Brennokovic and his partner, Jevlan, found themselves knocking on a nobleman's door. Once. Twice. No answer. He sighed looking up at the dark windows of the mansion. He was getting too old for this shit," she read, giggling at her friend's words. "'Maybe he's out,' Jevlan offered. The recruit was nervous. In the guard a week and barely able to walk through Hightown, too green for a murder case."

Dorian's arm was wrapped around Sarliah's back, his hand turned the page and he took over reading.

"'He's hiding. Look up.' Donnen pointed. 'He's shuttered up all the windows. There hasn't been a storm in months.' He pounded on the door again, louder," he said, rubbing his eyes part of the way through. "'We should get the captain.' Jevlan shifted and squirmed under his heavy shoulder plates. Donnen had forgotten how badly new guard armor fit. He started to tell the kid where to get it adjusted, and the door swung open."

"Varric is such a strange character," Sarliah declared, drawing laughs from the pair. "'Come inside, quickly!'

"A man rushed them inside and through the house. Every room was dark. No moonlight made it through the shuttered windows. No candles flickered. Their way was lit only by a hooded lantern in the hands of their host. He stopped once they had reached a windowless inside room, where he closed and bolted the door behind him," she continued. "'Comte de Favre?' Donnen guessed.

"The man nodded. In the dim lantern light, Donnen could see that he was dressed in a gaudy brocade doublet, but had thrown a chain mail shirt over it. He wore the helmet from an obviously ceremonial armor set, slightly askew on his head," she read. She paused when she noticed Dorian's soft, shallow breaths. He had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, Sarliah gently placed Varric's tale on the floor and grabbed the first tome that she could reach on the nearby pile. It was a short piece on sexuality in Thedas. While it was an interesting read, Sarliah soon found herself drifting. The pair was an adorable sight, wrapped up in each other's arms and snoozing.

Unlike Dorian, who was refined even in sleep, Sarliah was inclined towards snoring. The tower was quiet and Solas was able to hear her clearly. He grabbed a blanket from his couch and went up the stairs. He turned the corner and saw the two on the chair.

"Children," he whispered. He gently threw the blanket onto them, tucking them in much like a father would. Solas returned to his work as Dorian and Sarliah dreamed.


	2. Cullen

Sarliah was exhausted. The trip to the Storm Coast was a long one. She cleared out a mine full of red templars with her squad and she finally arrived back at Skyhold. All she wanted was to take a nap with her favorite ex-templar. Sarliah sluggishly made her way through the tavern, climbing the stairs towards her goal. When she reached the door to his office, she could hear him guiding his troops even through the heavy wood. She silently slipped in and leaned her back against the wall.

"Rylen. You and your men are to guide the caravan to the Hinterlands. There is a large stockpile of weapons in the caravan, so be focused," Cullen commanded, his eye catching on his lover's. "As for the rest of you, you're on mining duty. We need at least crates 50 Dawnstone by the end of the month. Dismissed."

The troops shuffled out, leaving only Sarliah and Cullen. She swayed over to him, putting her chest close to his. He wrapped his arms around her form, enveloping her small frame.

"I'm so pleased to see that you have returned, love," he whispered softly. "How did your trip go?

"Well, my sweet," she replied, nestling her face into his shoulder, her hair falling gently over both of them. "We kicked many red templars into oblivion." Cullen delicately raised her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

"Fantastic," he muttered. His rough voice made her melt after being away for so long. Sarliah's desire to dream with her lover grew. She gracefully placed a thin finger on his chest and looked into his striking, golden eyes.

"I hope you're not busy," she told him. "I have plans to claim you for the night." He shook his head and allowed himself to be pulled by his small elven girlfriend to her quarters. Her room was much larger and had an intact roof, so they preferred to spend their nights there. Varric yelled after them as they passed through the grand hall.

"Don't get into too much trouble, kids." Sarliah only winked in reply, eager to sleep. They climbed the final set of stairs. They were both relieved to be out of view of the rest of Skyhold, to finally be alone. Cullen stripped off his many layers of armor while Sarliah eased into her bed. It was covered in soft, warm furs and was much more comfortable than Cullen's bed. She often wondered how he could stand sleeping in there and congratulated herself for convincing him to stay with her most nights. When he was in his most comfortable state, Cullen joined his partner, laying on his side to squeeze her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as they drifted into slumber.


	3. Varric

"How about the time Hawke met Flemeth? Did I ever tell you that story?"

"Wait, you met Asha'Bellanar? They used to talk about her sometimes in my clan," Sarliah stated, sipping her tankard of wine. "I'd love to hear the story."

"Hawke was fleeing Lothering, fighting off wave after wave of darkspawn with her family. They even killed an ogre after it had killed her brother, Carver. She had sliced through dozens of the undead bastards, but even the Champion has her limits. Marian is swarmed by them, no end in sight. A massive dragon falls out of the sky, burning every one of them to ash. Then the dragon transforms into Flemeth. Hawke convinces her to take them to the docks where she can sail to the magical land of Kirkwall. All Hawke has to do is deliver an amulet to the Keeper of the clan nearby. So, we get to the mountain and trek all the way up. We fought off hoards of skeletons and demons. When we make it to the top, our friend Merrill, Daisy, performs a ritual on the amulet.

"Out of the amulet pops none other than Flemeth. She had somehow put a piece of herself inside the amulet. She vaguely told us how it worked, but that magic stuff just gives me a headache. Then the crone went on talking about the precipice of change and whatnot before turning into a dragon and flying off into the sky."

"That's all rather ridiculous, Varric."

"It's true, my dear Inquisitor. Every word."

"Well, I have a story for you. So, it was my first trip to Denerim with Deylan, my best friend from the clan. We decided that it would be a fun idea to pull a prank on one of the sisters of the chantry. We went to the store and bought some candles, a jar, and a bear foot..."


	4. Sera

Sarliah ventured into the tavern and was immediately hit by the smell of booze. It was welcoming. She climbed the stairs and made her way to Sera's room. She had received a note that only read:

Inquisitor:

Got something to show you

Important

Sera

(at the bottom was a crude drawing of Sera and the Inquisitor sitting together)

Sarliah rapped her knuckles on the door and an invitation to enter was heard. She stepped inside and found Sera sitting with a box.

"Inquisitor! I made more cookies for us," Sera said with a grin. "Maybe they won't be rubbish this time." The two of them climbed through the window and sat themselves down on the roof. Sera grabbed a cookie for each of them. She counted down and they ate their snacks simultaneously. They were rubbish.

"So much for that. At least I tried," Sera said, not all that disappointed.

"It's not a total waste. I have an idea for what we could do with them."

The two ran back to Sera's room, out of breath. They rested on the seats and waited for air to return to their lungs.

"All right, Inquisitor," Sera wheezed. "Whatcha got?"

"Hidden under Blackwall's sheets."

"Is that it?"

"He was sleeping on top of them."

"Well, I'll still come out on top. Look at Bull."

"He's fighting with Krem..." Sarliah said as she concentrated on his details. "You got them on his horns? You definitely win, Sera."

Before Sera could start congratulating herself, the Inquisitor offered a double-or-nothing round. The goal was to hide cookies on Cullen without him realizing. The two of them walked to his office, giggling like fools the entire way there. He was planning troop movements and was surprised by his love's visit.

"Hello, darling," he said, kissing her on the forehead, "Hello, Sera."

"Cully Wully," she answered, not holding in her mischevious laughter very well. Cullen sent her a confused look before turning back to Sarliah.

Now the game could begin. Sera took the hiding-behind-him approach and Sarliah took the distract-him-with-your-cuteness approah. Sera glided over to the commander's bookshelf and attempted to look nonchalant. She turned around and saw that her partner was already working her magic. She could tell that she was ready to make her move, so Sera swooped in to take the prize. Almost like magic, Sarliah twisted her fingers and a cookie appeared. She swiftly left it in one of the various pockets in the back of Cullen's armor. Leaving the scene of the crime, she pecked his chin and left with Sera.

"Good, Inquisitor. Should have picked Leliana."


	5. Iron Bull

The sun beat down mercilessly on the brow of the small team. The Inquisitor, Dorian, Cassandra, and the Iron Bull pushed their way through the Western Approach. The hot air and sand filled their lungs. Dorian's complaints orchestrated the journey. Sarliah knew that it would all be worth it once they reached their destination. The four of them passed by Frederic, the Orlesian dragon researcher. Sarliah had already retrieved the bait she needed from him, so they continued on with a nod and a wave. As she placed the final batch on the designated spot, they waited. Without warning, the dust was kicked up, stinging Sarliah's eyes. A massive high dragon appeared when the earth cleared. The Iron Bull's eyes lit up.

"Boss, I want you to know: you're the best." He charged straight for the belly of the beast, cutting deep into the flesh. Cassandra and Dorian seemed less than enthused to have to fight the monster of an enemy. The battle that followed was comparatively unremarkable. Lightning bolts, shield bashes, and backstabs. The Iron Bull had the final blow, surrounded by a Ring of Pain. He reveled in the blood of his slain foe.

"Today is a good day. Today is a very good day." Sarliah smiled at him. It was definitely worth it to trek all the way out into the desert. Even though it exasperated the rest of the team.

When they returned to Skyhold, Sarliah found herself in the tavern and found herself drinking with the Bull.

"Taarsidath-an Halsaam!" he exclaimed as he chugged his drink. Sarliah didn't know why he insisted on drinking it after every dragon they fought as it was terribly horrid. The beverage ravaged your throat with each gulp, leaving it sore for a couple of days. Regardless, she participated in his celebrations. She wouldn't want to turn down the opportunity to drink with her favorite Qunari. The Inquisitor paced herself, but the Iron Bull acted like he was drinking for two. She thought about convincing him to slow down, but he was high on adrenaline and she figured he knew his limits. As the night went on, the effects of the booze showed on his face. He sat hunched over on the bar with a sedated smile on his face. The Iron Bull turned to Sarliah and pushed the limit for being uncomfortably close. She didn't pay much mind to it, though.

"Boss, you are just so great," he slurred. "If Cullen wasn't around..."

"Sure, Bull. Go get some sleep," she said. "Try not to fall into the lap of a redhead." The Iron Bull claimed that he could make no promises.


	6. Cassandra

Cassandra was not found slicing into a dummy with her sword. Instead, she sat hunched over on her stool, engrossed in the first installment of Swords and Shields. Sarliah strutted to Cassandra's side and stole a peek into the tome.

"Raunchy," she whispered in her ear, a sarcastic seduction. The warrior's face painted itself a light pink. She shut the book and held her page with her finger.

"Inquisitor. I wish you would refrain from sneaking behind me."

"I'm a rogue. What else should I do?" she responded, grinning at Cassandra's unamused visage. She turned back to her book and continued reading. Sarliah rested on the soft grass, crossing her legs and staring at the clear sky. "I see you've restarted the series. They're that good?"

"Yes. They're..."

"Magical?" Cassandra nodded in agreement. "Cullen would agree, I think. He's really into romance novels."

"That's ridiculous, Inquisitor."

"It's true. He has a small collection of them that he keeps up in his loft. Don't tell him I told you."

"Has he read Swords and Shields?"

"Mhm. His favorite is A Night in Val Royeaux, though," she replied. Sarliah swept around and sat on her knees behind Cassandra. She began to survey the text and a small smile grew on her face.

"This stuff really is steamy. I can't believe Varric wrote this."

"He is a remarkable author, even if he is a cretin."

"It is quite good. Not his best work, but..." Sarliah drifted off as she saw Deylan, her best friend from her clan. Her finger landed on a particularly saucy phrase and she looked at Cassandra.

"I know who you want to do this with," she suggested, certainly not bothering to be subtle. The entirety of Cassandra's face blushed. In an attempt to avoid facing her embarrassment, the warrior rushed towards the rogue. Sarliah keenly dodged her and ran towards Cassandra's lover. She hid behind him and used him as a shield.

"Sar', what did you do this time?" he asked sweetly. Cassandra's anger subsided as she got closer to the towering elf. He kissed her gently on the cheek. In a big swoop, Deylan pulled Sarliah from behind him and pulled her into a bear hug, her back connecting with his chest.

"Love, why are you chasing her?"

"She was being a nuisance," Cassandra answered.

"A nuisance? She was just reading her romance novel and didn't take kindly to my suggestions," Sarliah retorted. "Does that make me a nuisance?"

"Mhm."

"Well, I don't need you, then," Sarliah said, jokingly storming off. "Cullen wouldn't treat me so poorly."

He chuckled and embraced his sweetheart. Cassandra certainly enjoyed real romance to what she read in her novels.


	7. Solas

The moon illuminated Skyhold's stunning garden. The night air was frosty and Sarliah was glad that she had a blanket and her tea. She strolled over to her friend, bringing him his own cup.

"You know I detest this stuff, Inquisitor," Solas reminded her.

"Well, I had Dorian make the tea and he insisted on me bringing you some," she replied as she rested next to him. On rare occasions such as this, the pair would dream together. Solas felt more comfortable in the Fade and Sarliah enjoyed learning of Solas's wisdom. They gazed at the sky and their eyes filled with the view of millions of stars. A curtain fell over them as they drifted to sleep. They awoke, if you can actually call it such a thing, in the Fade. Sarliah took in her surroundings and found she was looking the city of Denerim, the city she once called home. She did not know how they arrived so quickly, but she also had a hard time comprehending the complexity of the Fade.

"Denerim? Why here?"

"I know you care deeply for this place," Solas answered, walking through the stone streets."

"It's so quiet. There are always many merchants trying to solicit everyone. My favorite was this dwarf selling his crafts direct from Orzammar. Have you ever been here, Solas?"

"Once. It was unremarkable."

"I'd like to hear about it."

"My trip consisted of purchasing a herbalism tome and visiting the alienage."

"How long ago did you go? Did you meet the Hero of F erelden?"

"Yes. It was not long before she became a Grey Warden."

"Oh, I forgot about your disdain for them. Do I offend?" she asked, slowly making her way toward her old neighborhood.

"No, da'len. She certainly lived up to the tales; generous, sarcastic, did not suffer fools," he said, following his friend. The two of them stood in front of an old wooden door. Sarliah's eyes began to swell with tears, but allowed none to fall. Solas stood in silence behind her. He was a comfort even if he said nothing. Sometimes nothing is enough, after all. He began to spin a tale about the Blight, focusing on a young Antivan man who was barely familiar with Ferelden. His home in Denerim was not as luxurious as the home he had come to know in his homeland. He was not a poor man, however. He earned his wages working at the Pearl and protecting the workers from harm. He was not a religious man, but he spent many evenings at the Chantry. The man would sit in the back row of the pews and was among those looking for comfort. They found it in Andraste and the Maker while he found it merely being in the presence of so many. When the darkspawn arrived and the archdemon commanded the skies, he was one of the first to aid those in the city. His home was one of the few with a basement and it took in many refugees. He received the Taint in the process of saving another young man. He eventually succumbed to it, but not before he saved a dozen citizens.

"He helped so many and no one even knows who he is."

"Those that he saved will remember him. His spirit is strong and compassionate. In the Fade, his name is not significant," he claimed. "Yours will be rendered worthless as well, but your spirit will be just as strong."

"Thank you, lethallin. You are a true friend," Sarliah said as she settled into the dirt and leaned into the slightly rotted wood.

"I would not claim such a thing, but thank you," Solas replied. "Have you any stories of Denerim worth sharing?"

"Maybe. It is insignificant."

"I assumed you would enjoy sharing a tale of your time here."

"I would, but I do not wish to bore you." Solas spoke silently to her. Tell me anyway, child.

So, she did. She told of the first day she arrived in Denerim with her best friend, Deylan. She told of their irresponsibility and how they escaped the town guard using a jar of honey. When she finished, Solas chuckled and decided it was time to end their nap.

"I fear Cullen has yet to sleep," he quipped. "You should take care of him. Wake up."

Sarliah sat up suddenly. She took in her surroundings and found she was not asleep for long. She grabbed her blanket and rushed towards Cullen's study. Solas remained asleep in the world he was so comfortable in.


	8. Josephine

Step, twirl, step, twirl.

For Josephine, dancing was an important element to diplomacy, to the Game. For Sarliah, dancing was a problem. The process in her case was more:

Step, stumble, fall over, give up.

Josephine insisted on the Inquisitor learning the basics. She could not afford to look a fool at any Orlesian parties. Her little show at the Winter Palace was due in no small part to luck and even then she was almost too short to lead the Duchess. Sarliah was pleased that her dancing partner was so patient. They fell yet again in a flurry of gold satin and white cotton. Sarliah ended up on top and rolled over on her back.

"Sorry, Josie. My limbs do not agree with dancing."

"Learning to dance is important, Inquisitor," Josephine replied, emphasizing the title. Sarliah pushed herself off of the polished floor of the Ambassador's office and offered her hand which Josephine took advantage of. The pair returned to the starting position and continued their routine.

Step, twirl, step, twirl

This time the Inquisitor was getting it and fell in line with Josephine. Her mouth turned up into a smile and she continued to lead the elf into more spins and shuffling. The finishing move was a deep dip, Sarliah's back almost touching the floor. Josephine lifted her back up and they both regained their balance.

"Now you lead," Josephine ordered as she positioned her hands on Sarliah. A small pool of sweat coated their hands and Sarliah's heart beat faster. She waited for the stumbling and the falling that had come so many times before.

It did not come.

The two danced in near perfect harmony, stepping and twirling. Sarliah's confidence blossomed and pushed her to be bold. When the finishing move was to be performed, she did not pull Josephine into a deep dip. Instead, she gently lifted Josephine up. Instead of a flurry of gold satin and white cotton, it was a graceful balance of the two. She placed her down on the tiles and caught her breath. Josephine was positively glowing.

"That was quite unexpected," she told her. "And well executed.

"I have the best teacher, after all."


	9. Vivienne

The room filled with a quiet and intense chatter as the two stepped gracefully into the ballroom. The clicking of their heels against the hard flooring of the palace drew more eyes to them. Vivienne and Sarliah always seemed to have that effect on people. The pair was introduced, they bowed, and the guests had a sudden lack of interest. The Enchanter sashayed and chatted with them, easing into her soft facade. The Inquisitor slipped gracefully through the crowded hall, wishing only to eavesdrop. She chose her mark, the first of many. They welcomed her into their cluster and she listened as the ringleader spoke incessantly about useless things. What she considered to be useless, anyhow.

"Oh, I do love your shoes, Comtesse. I'm so very pleased that phoenix feathers are in this season."

"I heard the Marquis is having an affair with his elven servant. Disgraceful."

"Inquisitor, your dress is magnificent. I wish I had Madame de Fer to buy gowns for me."

Sarliah was quite fond of her dress. Its dark green velvet and gold trimmings made her pale skin and blue eyes seem more exquisite. But her dress was also not her main focus for the night. She politely dismissed herself and searched for another group. The first one was not as fruitful as she had hoped. The next hour or so turned into a cycle of assimilating and gathering. When she estimated she had enough dirt on the nobles, she searched for Vivienne. Sarliah found her up in a small balcony and made her way there.

"Inquisitor. I trust your time has been profitable," she greeted as she gestured to the empty seat next to her. Sarliah sat down and adjusted herself.

"It has, Lady Vivienne. I see you have escaped your admirers."

"Yes, darling. This entire affair has grown a little dull, no?"

"Care to leave early and get some tea?"

"Sounds delightful, but I promised the hostess I would not leave too soon," Vivienne stated. Sarliah remained silent and the two observed the droves of men and women below them. Each participated in their own unspectacular ritual of small talk and waltzes. When they became redundant, Sarliah and Vivienne chose to entertain themselves.

"The Comte is obviously compensating for something," Sarliah gossiped. "For what?"

"It's probably best not to think about it overmuch," Vivienne sassed. "Did you hear of Lady Mari?"

"Too much, in fact. I need to know how anyone can find so many goats."

"I will find out, darling," Vivienne offered. She rose gracefully and turned to her companion. "I believe I have fulfilled my obligation. Shall we?"

Sarliah nodded and rose. They strutted out as they had strutted in, drawing the eyes of many as they often did. The cafe was not far from the soiree. For that, the elf was grateful.

"These shoes are torture, Vivi. How can you stand it?" she questioned, pulling them off with a sigh of relief.

"Practice, of course. Your posture is also terrible." Sarliah did not argue and placed her carefully adorned footwear on the ground. The two of them spent the rest of their afternoon sitting in the small restaurant, enjoying their tea and pastries. They were glad to escape the pompous party. Especially since they later learned of a murder that occurred shortly after their departure. Orlesians.


	10. Blackwall

The stables were a beautiful quiet, interrupted by the stomping of horses and the swing of an axe. Sarliah strolled towards Blackwall and sat on the grass. She observed him as he cut the logs. He barely broke a sweat, yet his arms displayed his exhaustion every time the axe fell.

"Blackwall."

"Yes, Inquisitor?" he answered, not looking away from his task.

"I'm cashing in the IOU. You need to rest, anyway." He replied with a sigh and a quiet grunt. The axe found its way onto the pile of wood and the two of them made their way to Blackwall's abode. He retrieved his whittling supplies, a knife and a block that vaguely looked like a griffin. They both sat down on the bench next to the fire.

"This is ridiculous."

"If you find it so, then don't lose at cards next time."

Blackwall sent her an annoyed yet reluctant look and began his work on the halfway finished project. Sarliah calmly ran her fingers through his beard, combing the coarse hairs. She separated his locks into three sections and separated one of those into three more sections. Sarliah then began to intertwine all three into a plait.

"I still do not understand your insistence on braiding my beard."

"It's fun. I used to braid Deylan's hair all the time," she explained. "I would do it to someone else, but no one really has enough hair for it."

He silently agreed and they both continued. Blackwall was quick to finish, completing the head by the time Sarliah completed the first braid. Sarliah began humming Empress of Fire and Blackwall was slightly eased. Her styling followed the tune, each part weaving gracefully into the next. She finished as the last note sounded.

"Done."

Blackwall nodded approvingly. As the elf left, he stroked his beard softly.


	11. Leliana

Leliana scrawled down an order for her spies and sent it off with her raven. She sighed, allowing herself a private moment to express her stress.

"Long day?"

She let out a small, surprised gasp. "Inquisitor. long."

Leliana rose from her chair and walked to her shrine. She fell to her knees and began to silently pray.

My Maker, know my heart

Take from me a life of sorrow

Lift mw from a world of pain

Judge me worthy of Your endless pride

She remained there for a moment, eyes shut tight. Sarliah leaned against a wooden beam and calmly watched her Spymaster. Leliana's face turned slightly towards the elf.

"I know you don't believe in the Maker. Who do you turn to in times of need?"

"Myself. My loved ones."

Leliana nodded and stood up.

"Did I tell you of how I met the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Mhm. Kallian and Alistair came in and they were threatened by some thugs that worked for Loghain. Then you guys killed them and you convinced her to let you tag along."

"She showed me, reminded me that I am a good person. She helped me when my faith waned, even if she didn't believe herself."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"She has been on my mind lately. I worry for my friend in her quest," Leliana answered. "Did you ever meet her while you lived in Denerim?"

"We were friends in passing. I attended her wedding."

"Which one?"

Sarliah chuckled. "The successful one. It's just a shame she couldn't truly marry Alistair."

"It's merely politics. I am surprised I do not remember your attendance."

"I stood in the back with Deylan."

Leliana smiled and returned to her chair. They recalled that special day, how beautiful the groom looked, how Kallian's mabari tried to eat the vhenadal, how there was only two attempted assassinations. Leliana forgot about her responsibilities, if only for a moment.


	12. Cole

Sarliah gazed in Cole's direction as he healed refugees in Skyhold. She consistently found it remarkable. All it took for him to balm a person's heart was a whisper. Then they would forget. She stepped softly behind him as he made yet another forget.

"Cole. Would you like to go somewhere with me?"

"I would like that very much."

They went to Val Royeaux, to the cafe. They visited here a number of times. Cole found many suffering minds and Sarliah liked little, frilly cakes. He appeared suddenly next to their fellow customers and ease their pain.

"He understands. He still loves you."

Forget

"She only wants to spend time with you. She doesn't want you to buy her more hats."

Forget

Sarliah sipped her tea and ate her pastries. He popped into the seat next to her and she pushed a tart in his direction.

"How is it going?" she asked him, her beverage warming her throat. "Good?"

He nodded. "Fur warms the face and the heart. A coin in a pocket. Can't lose him, can't lose him."

"Cole," Sarliah quietly objected.

"Staff falls, magic stops, blood covers the floor. No, no, no."

"Cole, no."

"Ground is cold, not again. Can't protect him if he's not here."

"Stop, Cole," she commanded, trying not to shout.

"I want to help."

"I know, sweetheart. Not here. Too many people around."

Cole slouched slightly in resignation. He eyed his pastry and nibbled on it. They sat in silence as they ate. Sarliah rose and Cole did the same. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into a shop nearby. It was a jewelry shop she frequented.

"Be right back," she told him, relinquishing her hold. She briefly browsed the wares until she came across the perfect gift. Sarliah brought it over to the merchant and asked him to engrave it. He finished his task quickly and brought it back. She inspected it before paying for it and bring it to Cole.

"For you. A pendant."

He ran it over his hand and adorned it. It was simple, platinum with amber in the center. When turned around, it simply read Cole.

"I thought you needed a gift. For helping so many people. Including me, of course."

"Thank you," he said, a small smile across his face.


End file.
